Grape Vine
by Nyeerg
Summary: The ship's been abuzz with McCoy's love life, and a certain captain accidentally takes it a bit too far.


"So who is it, Dr. McCoy?" Christine Chapel leaned over the edge of the biobed, a smirk on her face. "Everybody's been talking about your 'mystery girl' and nobody's fessed up to being her yet." As the head of Nursing, and therefore the woman closest to the infamous Dr. McCoy, all of the ship's gossip concerning the newest development in his sex life went through her.

Not that there was much to know about the steamy doctor. There'd been a dropped line about him passively being interested in somebody, but so far, nobody had been able to ascertain who the somebody was. The captain was on the trail, but last Christine had heard, Jim was no closer than the rest of them to figuring it out.

It certainly said something that the crewmembers of the USS Enterprise were so bored with their ferrying missions that their sole form of mass entertainment was prying into the love life of the CMO and anybody else on board in a position of power. McCoy was just the focus of this particular mission.

"Who's who?" McCoy moved away from the bed, absentmindedly ticking things off on a datapad as he went.

"Who's the mystery lady everybody's been talking about? Seems you told the captain you were chasing somebody." Christine followed him as the doctor drifted towards his office and scanned the datapad in his hand.

"There isn't a lady," McCoy responded, vaguely.

"What?"

McCoy snapped out of his work-focused daze and glared at her. "Dammit, Chapel, you're not getting anything out of me."

"Come on!" Christine followed him into his office, and hit the manual override to close the door. McCoy was off shift, he didn't need to have people wandering into his office while he was angry and about to be drunk. McCoy glared at her again, and reached into his desk for the bottle of bourbon. "Don't you want any help getting her? I can set you two up on a blind date or-"

"If you must know," McCoy snarled, "He isn't a lady. The opposite, in fact. You couldn't get _further_ from a _lady_ than J-" McCoy cut himself off and muttered a curse under his breath. "I need a drink."

"J? Whose name begins with a…"

McCoy stared morosely at the bottle as the realization finally wiggled through the mass of blonde hair to Christine's brain.

He debated jabbing her with a hypo and telling her she had simply fallen asleep on the job, but not only would Jim have to frown at him, McCoy couldn't bring himself to do it.

"The captain? But-"

McCoy took a swig directly from the bottle, and collapsed in his chair. "Might as well sit, you know too much anyhow. GodDAMMIT!" McCoy slammed the bottle against his desk, and didn't even get the satisfaction of a broken bottle. New Age glass didn't break, the damn stuff _bounced_.

"Oh- _oh_. You…" Christine sagged in the seat across from McCoy, and stared blankly over his shoulder, at the framed picture of the captain and McCoy over McCoy's head. Jim had his arm slung around McCoy's waist, and the doctor's arm was across his shoulders. They leaned against each other, practically extensions of each other, and Christine wondered how, exactly, she had missed it. McCoy didn't even _act_ like he liked Jim. In fact, most of the time, he acted like it was a trial to even be in the same room as the captain. "Why don't you say something to him?"

McCoy snorted, and took another gulp from the bourbon. "Like _what_? 'Jim, I know I'm your best friend, but I fuckin' love you.' Yeah, Chapel, _real good idea_. And I'm not even fuckin' _drunk_ yet. Hah."

Chapel frowned at him and got up. She crossed behind his desk, and pulled two shot glasses out of the drawer. "If you're going to drink, you're drinking like a man, not like a lovestruck teenager." She removed the bottle from his unresisting hand and poured two shots. "Explain to me the situation."

"Alright. I'll use _little_ words." McCoy sat up, reached for the shot glass, and drained it. "Let's say there's this girl. A. A has this really pretty best friend, B, who she's been best friends with for years, gone through hell with, roomed with. B is really, _really_ attractive, so B gets all the guys. A hasn't dated since a nasty, painful breakup and is fuckin' jaded. A, after the breakup, realizes that she likes B, as more than just a friend. She's attracted to B, but if she says anything, B will be repulsed because B doesn't like other girls and their whole friendship will go down the drain. A decides B's friendship is more important, and romantically A settles for less. Much less. Understand now?"

"So…you think if you tell Captain Kirk that you like her- sorry, him- that he'll hate you?" Christine sipped at her glass, and poured McCoy another. The poor man needed it more than she'd thought. "How do you know he doesn't like you back?"

McCoy muttered something under his breath, and didn't look at her.

"You don't do you. Look, let's say D knows what's going on."

"D?"

"Yes, D. D is thinking she knows something A doesn't, or missed. D knows that B had a reputation at Academy for trying anything once. D knows that she can get C-"

"C?" McCoy actually looked mildly interested, though not much less angry, in her words. "Who's C?"

"Leave that to me. Anyways. C and D know they can find out how B feels towards A. C and D can find out if B would ever consider dating A." Christine was pleased with herself, mainly because she hadn't got her alphabet people mixed up. McCoy looked lost.

"You're going to do recon on B?" McCoy stared at the bottle and Christine obligingly poured him another shot. "It's not going to work. There's no way B would ever…"

McCoy's communicator crackled, and he pulled it out of his pocket and glared at it. "McCoy here," he said, after a moment's thought. "Well? What d'you want?"

"Bones! Just the man I wanted to talk to. What are you doing?" Jim Kirk's ever-cheerful voice took a moment to filter through McCoy's buzzed haze. "Bones?"

Christine leaned over the desk. "In his office, Captain, having a drink."

"Afternoon, Nurse Chapel! I'll be down in a moment, Bones owes me a drink anyhow. Don't let him get too far into the bottle."

"Yes, sir!" Christine stifled a smile at McCoy's incredulous expression.

"Kirk out."

Christine removed the communicator from her boss's hand and set it off to the side. "Maybe this could be your chance. Don't do anything silly, Dr. McCoy." She patted his hand, and left the bottle at the corner of his desk.

She let herself out of his office, and met the captain at the door. He gallantly held it open and she let out a giggle. "Nurse Chapel! You're looking lovely, as usual."

"Captain Kirk! Flattery will get you nowhere."

Jim chucked her under the chin and smiled. "Flattery gets me everywhere. How else would I have my own ship?"

She shook her head and headed down the hall. As she turned the corner, she heard the automatic door swoosh closed behind the captain.

Jim navigated the beds and machinery and soon found himself standing in front of the door to Bones' office. It slid open at his touch, and he entered to find his best friend slouched in his chair, glaring blankly at the wall.

"Bones, it's too early to be drunk. What happened?" Jim removed the bottle from the edge of the desk, and capped it. McCoy made a move to stop him, but his hand stopped short of touching Jim's sleeve, and he dropped his arm to his lap. Jim took both shot glasses, and stuck them on the shelf next to his and McCoy's picture. "Come on. Let's go for a walk, we haven't had a good talk in a long time."

McCoy grumbled, but stood, and Jim threw and arm around his shoulder. "So. What's new?" Jim led him out of Sickbay and headed down the hall, opposite where Christine had gone. "Any new developments in your sizzling romance?"

McCoy didn't answer, and Jim steered him somewhere into the depths of the crew's sleeping quarters. "Where are we going? Do you even know?"

"Oh, around," Jim answered blithely. "I assume you're still unwilling to reveal the identity of your mystery woman? I'm running out of people to blindly assume she must be. It's a big ship but there aren't that many people I can see you with, and most of those are guys."

If Jim noticed McCoy's sudden stiffness, he didn't comment and kept steering them around, going in circles so often that McCoy was sure he was going to have to ask directions to get back to Sickbay or his quarters. He was too drunk to deal with Jim.

"Jim." McCoy stopped, and Jim stopped and tilted his head.

"Yes, Bones?"

"Where the fuck are we?"

"In the middle of officer quarters. Want to head back to Sickbay?"

McCoy wasn't a lightweight, but he had a headache and he was feeling perhaps a touch woozy, though he knew exactly what had brought it on. Thank whatever god there was that he wasn't still a hormonal teenager, or he'd have even more problems.

"'m off shift."

"Your quarters then. Off we go!" Jim looped his arm around him again, but this time it was around McCoy's waist. He began to complain that he could walk fine on his own, but Jim shushed him and McCoy secretly tried to memorize the feel of Jim pressed up against him.

He was such a hopeless old romantic. A jaded, drunk, angry, hopeless romantic.

They arrived at his quarters in what seemed like mere seconds, and Jim gave his override code to open the door. McCoy pushed away from him as soon as he was in the door, and turned to grumble at the younger man.

And stopped dead, one hand held out, jaw dropped. Jim was inches away from him, leaning over from the waist, eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. His golden brown eyes bored into McCoy's dark blue, and McCoy's eyes fell on Jim's lips, pursed with thought.

"It _is_ too early for you to be drinking. Tell me what's going on or I'm not leaving you to sleep it off." Jim straightened, and looped his hands against the small of his back. He looked as imperial as his ego made him act, and McCoy was at a loss for words.

"I can't explain it, Jim," McCoy said, finally. He backed up, and settled in the chair at his barren desk. He lived in Medical the majority of the time; in the three months the Enterprise had been flying after the overhaul and repairs, he'd spent maybe a week's worth of nights in it. It felt strange.

"You can at least try," Jim said, annoyed. McCoy stared at him through half-lidded eyes before closing them fully and leaning back in the chair. "Something's been going on. If it's all this hassle about your lady, say the word and it's done. Nobody will bother you about it again."

McCoy let out a sigh, and clenched his jaw. "That's not it, dammit, just drop it! Nothing's going on between me and anybody!"

The door slid closed, and McCoy opened his eyes, expecting an empty room.

What he got was Jim, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, leaning back against the door and looking particularly unimpressed.

"What the hell, Jim?"

"You've been acting really off lately. Spock noticed and was worried you'd caught something. _Spock_, Bones!" Jim crossed the room in a few angry strides, and pinned McCoy to the chair. His hands tightened on McCoy's wrists, and his knee wedged between McCoy's legs to press against the edge of the chair for leverage. "Don't 'Dammit, Jim!' me, Bones, people are _worried-_"

McCoy lunged up, and pressed his lips to Jim's.

Jim's eyes, large with hurt and anger, widened, first with surprise, then with realization, and he stumbled back.

McCoy rubbed his wrists, and turned his face away from Jim. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the other man to turn and leave, and probably request a transfer for him to a different ship, and-

A hand grabbed his jaw, forced him to look forward, and he opened his eyes. Jim was, for the third time, mere inches from him, but this time, he was neither worried nor angry. This time, he just looked confused.

Jim let go of him, carefully placed his hands on the armrests of the chair, and stared at McCoy.

McCoy stared back, unsure of what to do or say. Jim didn't look angry, but McCoy couldn't decipher his expression. He just stared, the wheels turning inside his golden-blonde head, while McCoy's heart began to beat faster and faster, so loud in his own ears that if he didn't know it was impossible, he'd have sworn Jim could hear it.

"How many drinks did you have?" Jim asked, finally. He straightened up, but he didn't back away. Unless McCoy wanted to be awfully close to him for a moment or shove him away so he could stand, he was effectively pinned. "Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?"

"Probably," McCoy answered, after a moment's hesitation. If he was going to hang for fucking up, at least he could make it something worth going to hell for. He shifted his weight, and stood, slowly. Jim took a small step back to give him a bit of room, but he didn't move back any further.

McCoy didn't know what Jim was up to, but the man didn't move as McCoy lifted a hand to brush the stubble on Jim's chin. He laid his hand fully against Jim's cheek, and Jim leaned into it even as he brought up his own hand to lightly grasp McCoy's wrist. McCoy moved in, slowly, but his eyes were on Jim's and McCoy pressed his lips to Jim's, again, gently. Jim didn't respond, but he didn't move away and his thumb was _oh_ so softly brushing against McCoy's wrist.

"Bones…"

"Don't," McCoy said, harsher than he intended. "Just- _don't_." He pulled his hand back, fisted it in the collar of Jim's gold uniform shirt, and bodily dragged the shorter man to the door. "Come back when I'm not drunk and we'll talk." The door opened, and before Jim could utter more than a bit of a complaint, Bones shoved him into the hall, hit the manual shut, the typed in his CMO override key. Jim could get back in if he wanted to, but the tiny video screen above the keypad showed Jim stare at the door for a moment before adjusting his shirt and striding out of view like nothing had happened at all.


End file.
